


Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology

by Blowfish_Diaries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All of archaeology is actually just pottery washing, Anal Sex, Archaeology, Copious Dr Who references, Draco in safari gear, Drinking Games, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mentions of Draco in lingerie, Multi, Oral Sex, Seriously so much pottery washing, Washing pottery, glamping, literally zero angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blowfish_Diaries/pseuds/Blowfish_Diaries
Summary: A new Muggle Studies professor takes the Eighth Year students to work on an archaeological excavation. In which Draco is lazy, Harry is sweaty, Hermione is drunk, and Ron turns red.





	Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I'm currently excavating a super boring context (at a really cool site, though!), and I started writing this in my head to pass the time; then I actually started writing it down, and this is what happened.  
> 2\. Go read @magpie_fngrl 's [Tangiers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992318)  
> (seriously drop everything and go read it). I wish with all my heart that archaeology were actually this exciting and sexy (if it were, though, I probably wouldn't do it 'cause it sounds dangerous AF).  
> 3\. A million and a half thanks to @LowerEastSide for nerding out with me about an ArchaeologyAU and then beta-ing for me. You are a wonderful human I am so grateful to you!  
> 4\. A quick note on terms: "scarp" and "balk" are used interchangeably to describe the walls/boundaries of a trench; a Total Station is a georeferencing tool.

“Circe’s tits, Malfoy! Back _OFF_!” Harry craned his neck to glare at the man standing over him. He was crouched in their trench, trying to even out the balk with his trowel, and for the past ten minutes Malfoy had stood at the edge of the scarp and criticised every single stroke Harry had made.

“It’s not my fault you have the fine motor skills of a giant, Potter. I’m not going to sit back whilst you ruin the stratigraphy with your ineptitude!” 

Harry stood up and faced Malfoy, placing his hands on his hips. Their trench was half a meter below the surface of the field, so he was forced to look up at Malfoy. The blond looked like he was ready for a jungle safari: he wore fitted khaki trousers, a long-sleeved button-down shirt with a many-pocketed canvas vest over it, and a bucket hat with its drawstring cinched to just below his chin. Harry refused to think he looked adorable. 

Gathering himself, Harry looked down at his own dusty work boots, baggy cargo pants caked with mud, and plain white shirt that stuck to his shoulders from sweat. Malfoy’s outfit, of course, was as pristine as it was on the first day of the excavation. Harry grabbed the hem of his filthy shirt and brought it up to his forehead, wiping the sweat and dirt from his brow. He looked up and saw Malfoy staring at him with his mouth hanging open before his features quickly shifted into his trademark sneer. 

“Listen, Malfoy. Ever since we started this project you’ve been micromanaging every single thing I do! If you don’t like my excavation style why don’t you come down here and I’ll take notes on _your_ work?”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Potter? You know I can’t be in the direct sunlight for that long! My skin can’t handle it, as you are well aware.”

Harry threw his arms up in frustration. “I’m only aware of you moaning about your alabaster complexion. Use a fucking sun charm like the rest of us and stop acting like such a delicate flower!”

“I’m perfectly suited to taking notes and recording, Potter. I’m only advising you on what I know to be the most effective excavation techniques. My great great great grandfather Orion Malfoy was a gentleman archaeologist, embarking on one of the first wizarding Grand Tours. It’s in my blood - “

“I swear to Godric if you bring up your colonialist grandfather’s half-arsed attempts at archaeology _one more time_ \- “

“It’s not my fault that I come from such refined stock! You should be so lucky to have access to the sort of knowledge that’s been passed down to me from generations of Malfoys.”

“Hello, sweeties. How are things progressing this morning?” Dr Song, their new Muggle Studies professor, gazed serenely down at the Malfoy/Potter trench. She was holding her omnipresent notebook open in her hands, pen poised and ready to record their findings. 

“Dr Song, I cannot be expected to report accurate results under these circumstances. Potter refuses to follow my simple directions, and has decided to continue taking down level 3 despite the fact that we have obviously struck upon a new soil layer.” 

“That’s completely untrue!” Harry protested, climbing out the trench to face his teacher. “I’m cleaning the balk so that we can photograph it and draw the stratigraphy! Malfoy’s head is so far up his own arse that he can’t see what I’m doing.” 

Dr Song cleared her throat. “Gentleman, part of this exercise is to promote unity and teamwork. I’m quite disappointed that after an entire week, not to mention an entire school year spent paired with one another, you’ve not managed to put aside your schoolyard squabbles and come together for the benefit of the historical record.” 

Harry opened his mouth to protest, to tell Dr Song that truly, he and Malfoy got on infinitely better than they ever had in the past seven years of their acquaintance, but he hesitated. True, they’d shared a quad-room in the Eighth Year boys’ dormitory (with Ron and Blaise) for the past 7 months without either of them dying at the other’s hand, had gone 5 months without hexing each other, and even gone for the past 3 months without insulting the other’s family, but they weren’t mates. Although, they certainly weren’t enemies anymore. Harry didn’t know what they were, but “arch nemeses” didn’t fit the bill. Really, they’d come so far. 

(And if Harry’s dreams had begun to feature blond, lithe men with ridiculously expressive eyebrows and soft grey eyes, then that was his business. And his right hand’s.)

Their apparent cessation of hostilities had come to an end, however, when they were forced to share a trench during the Eighth Years’ spring trip to excavate a wizarding archaeological site in Suffolk. Dr River Song, the newly appointed Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts, had come to the post after completing her PhD in Medieval Archaeology and “traveling the universe” with her erstwhile husband. She claimed that she had always wanted to teach, and after missing both wars due to what she termed a “glitch in the space/time continuum” (the entire Eighth Year class could agree on almost nothing, save that their new professor was _incredibly_ strange and said the _oddest_ things) she had decided she wanted to help mould young minds. And so, in the hottest April England had seen in generations, she led all twelve of her Eighth Years into the field to work on a dig aimed at identifying a wizarding burial ground from the tenth century CE. They were to use muggle archaeological methods, resorting to magic only when necessary to break through charms or curses placed on any graves. 

Dr Song claimed that the trench pairings were done randomly, but Hermione had pointed out that everyone was grouped with someone they’d had a “tetchy past” with. She was paired with Pansy Parkinson, Ron was paired with Tony Goldstein, Neville with Millicent Bulstrode, Lavender with Blaise Zabini, Padma with Terry Boot, and of course, Harry with Malfoy. Surprisingly, at least to Harry, all of the other teams seemed to compliment each other’s working style well. No other pair had screamed at each other or requested a different partner. 

“Dunno, mate.” Ron had remarked at dinner last night. “Tony’s alright, and his handwriting is perfect. He doesn’t mind setting up the Total Station in the morning, and he’s actually pretty funny.” 

Harry had turned to Hermione, hoping that she might commiserate with his experience with Malfoy. “Don’t look at me, Harry. Pansy doesn’t mind doing all the excavating; in fact she’s quite adept with a trowel. And she always compliments my recording techniques. Have you ever noticed how nice her hands are?” Harry didn’t have an answer to that, so he looked around at the rest of the table. All of his classmates appeared to be enjoying themselves on this project. He and Malfoy were apparently the only ones who couldn’t find a rhythm. 

And so, standing in front of Dr Song now, Harry closed his open mouth. He was tired, he was hot, and he was bored of fighting with Malfoy. Instead of protesting the situation further, he squared his shoulders and told himself to, in the words of Minerva when he tried to get out of rooming with Malfoy last September, “grow up and make it work, Potter.” 

“You’re right, Dr Song.” Malfoy’s head snapped around to stare at Harry. “We’ll try harder. I promise.” Harry walked over to the small table that housed their notes, and handed the morning’s progress over to her. 

“Thank you, Mr Potter.” She began reading over Malfoy’s meticulous reports. “I appreciate your words. But just to make sure that you’re not simply placating your professor with empty promises, you two will be in charge of cooking dinner tonight.” She smiled brightly at them, winked, and strode off towards Ron and Tony’s trench. 

“What the actual fuck, Potter.” Malfoy turned to look at Harry, confusion plain on his face. “I bet we could’ve gotten her to switch partners in another day! I know Blaise would appreciate my suggestions to improve his excavation techniques.” 

Harry shrugged. “Let’s just get this done. You keep your mouth shut about the way I hold a trowel, and I’ll try to be more reasonable about the amount of time you need to finish a topographical drawing. Deal?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and regarded Harry warily for a few moments before nodding curtly and returning to his cushioned chair. Underneath a large umbrella. With a charmed-cold lemonade in a crystal goblet resting in a drinks holder. And a feather transfigured into fan set to oscillate. 

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry looked around the small kitchen. Next to the hob were an assortment of vegetables; he found dry pasta in a cupboard and milk, ground beef, eggs, and butter in the refrigerator. “OK, Malfoy, what do you think? Spaghetti and meatballs?” 

Malfoy looked at Harry in bewilderment before answering, “I am completely sincere when I say this, Potter. I do not give a single fuck what you make for dinner. I’ve never cooked in my life, and I’m certainly not starting in this hovel.” He sighed dramatically and threw himself into a small chair near the doorway. 

“I don’t know why I expected anything different.” Harry didn’t turn around to address his comments to Malfoy, choosing instead to pick up a tomato and examine it. “But I’m not making food for fifteen people on my own. The least you can do is cast a chopping charm if you’re not going to help in any other way.”

“Malfoys do not do menial labour, Potter.” 

“Cooking isn’t menial labour. It’s a basic life skill, like brushing your teeth and knowing how to do laundry.”

“And why would I ever need to know how to _laundry_?” Malfoy spat the word out as if it pained him. 

“You’re not going to live at Hogwarts or the Manor forever, are you?” 

“Of course not. But I’ll always have Mimsy. She’s been with me since I was in the nursery.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and began to assemble the ingredients he’d need to make dinner. _If Malfoy weren’t so pretty, he’d be a lot more annoying,_ Harry mused. “Listen. Just follow a few directions and we’ll get this done quickly. I’m actually a pretty good cook, and I think this’ll turn out a lot better than Ron and Tony’s ‘meatloaf surprise’ from last night.” Harry shuddered at the memory. 

“Ugh, _fine_! Salazar, Potter.” Malfoy groaned and got to his feet, shuffling over to the sink where Harry stood filling a large pot with water. Harry suppressed a grin at his victory. 

“Put this on the hob, and then add a few pinches of salt.” He handed the now heavy pot to Malfoy, allowing his fingers to linger against the other boy’s a few seconds longer than strictly necessary to transfer the cookware.

 _It’s not my fault his skin is so soft,_ Harry reasoned to himself. _Hermione has always said I’m a very tactile person._

Malfoy put the pot down on the burner and stared blankly at it. “What charm do I use to make it...hot, or whatever?” 

“You can’t use a charm on a muggle kitchen instrument. Just turn that knob,” Harry reached across Malfoy’s body, letting his arm brush against the taut line of his stomach, and flicked the knob. Harry was sure he imagined that Malfoy had leaned in slightly to his touch. 

“Task completed. Am I done now?” Malfoy whinged at Harry, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Are you serious? No! Take these tomatoes and chop them. Use ‘secatus,’ it’s the most basic cutting charm. We’re making a marinara sauce, so they don’t need to be perfect.”

Malfoy let out a melodramatic groan, but acquiesced to Harry’s command. They continued to cook in silence, save for Harry’s occasional direction. 

About twenty minutes later, Harry and Malfoy were stood side by side, forming meatballs with their bare hands.

“This is barbaric, Potter. I’m touching raw meat. I could get some sort of disease doing this.” Malfoy had his lip curled as he rolled a pinch of meat between his palms. “I mean, seriously. How can muggles do this three times a day, every single day? It boggles the mind, considering the things they have to do to stay alive without magic.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows and turned his head to regard Malfoy. “Cooking? Cooking is what boggles your mind about muggle life? I’ve been cooking since I was five. It’s not difficult, and it can be enjoyable.”

“Five? Please. You couldn’t even reach the top of a hob when you were eleven, let alone five.” 

“Since I was _five._ I cooked for my aunt, uncle, and cousin when I lived with them. Up until the day I left for Hogwarts.” 

Malfoy considered this new information. “Why the hell would they allow a five year old to cook for them? That’s ridiculous. Are you some sort of cooking savant? Did they immediately recognise your talent for ball-shaped meat preparation as a toddler?” 

“No. My muggle relations weren’t all that interested in whether or not I wanted to cook, they just told me what to do and I did it. Just...just drop it, Malfoy. OK?” Harry felt like an idiot. He shouldn’t have made any comments about his life before Hogwarts. The last thing he wanted was pity from anyone. 

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again after looking at Harry’s expression. 

Not long after finishing the meatballs, Harry lifted a wooden spoon full of hot marinara sauce to Malfoy’s lips in invitation for him to try it. Malfoy lifted an eyebrow but opened his mouth and took some of the sauce. He closed his eyes and made a sound of pleasure, causing Harry’s cheeks to pink at the erotic noise that filled the small kitchen. 

“Oh, Potter. I take it all back. That is heavenly. You may cook for me anytime you like.” Harry smirked, and then smiled widely when Malfoy opened his eyes and licked his lips. 

“Told you we’d beat that ‘meatloaf surprise’ bullshit.” Harry felt smug.

Malfoy suddenly looked uncomfortable, but took a breath and said to Harry, “I won’t bring this up again as it clearly upsets you, but I just want you to know that if your muggle relations truly did force you to cook for them as barely more than a toddler then...well, then I hope to never meet them because I would hex them to within an inch of their life. And trust me, I know some _interesting_ hexes.” A flush blossomed on Malfoy’s pale neck and ran up to his cheeks, and he quickly turned back to his task of ripping lettuce for salad. 

Harry was dumbstruck. That might be the nicest thing that Malfoy had ever said to him, even if it did include the threat of violence to other humans. “Erm, thanks, Malfoy.” 

They went back to preparing the meal in a comfortable silence, occasionally bumping shoulders and hands as they worked. 

oOoOoOoOoOo

Apparently, archaeologists drank. A lot. And so for the fourth time in as many days, the group of Hogwarts students found themselves full from dinner, and full of cheap wine. As they were all of age, Dr Song turned a blind eye to the shenanigans of her students, excusing herself shortly after dinner was completed with a “goodnight, sweeties!” and a reminder to set their alarms. 

The Eighth Years and their two graduate student supervisors, Matt and Sarah, were currently lounging around a campfire. Matt was regaling the group with the story of his first excavation - “and then I completely forgot to map in the findspot of the arrowhead before removing it from the soil, and believe you me Dr Song did not let me forget about that one…” - and Harry was feeling warm and content, sitting between Hermione and Malfoy. 

“You’re really pretty, you know?” Hermione said to Pansy, whom she was leaning awkwardly against. 

“You’re drunk, Granger. But yes, I’m aware of my physical attributes.” Pansy brushed her perfectly trimmed black fringe from her forehead and gave Hermione a knowing smile. Harry looked over to gauge Ron’s reaction to this interaction between his girlfriend and the Slytherin, and saw Ron looking at the two of them with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Huh.” Harry turned to address Malfoy, letting his thigh rest against the other boy’s as he shifted his weight. “Did you notice anything sorta, erm, weird, going on between Pansy, Ron, and Hermione?”

“Hmm?” Malfoy was leaning back on his hands, gazing up at the stars. “You mean other than the fact that they’re clearly gagging to shag each other?” 

Harry was distracted by the way the firelight highlighted Malfoy’s sharp cheekbones, and it took him a moment to process the response. “Wait, what?”

“I’d give it another few days. Pansy likes to play with her food before she eats it.”

Harry choked on his wine. 

“Mate, you OK?” Ron called out. 

Harry waved him off, nodding. “Yeah, ‘course.” 

Malfoy was smirking when Harry looked back over to him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Potter. I didn’t realise you had such antiquated views of sexual relationships.” 

“I do not have antiquated views of sexual relationships! I have no problem with polyamory, I just don’t spend much time thinking about Ron and Hermione’s sex life... “ Harry trailed off, not sure he wanted to get into this conversation with Malfoy. 

“No, I don’t think many people want to spend much time thinking about the Weasel and Granger’s sexual activities. The time I walked into our rooms and saw them together was more information than I ever wanted.” 

Harry laughed, remembering Malfoy’s ashen face when he returned to the common room after having witnessed whatever it was between Hermione and Ron. To this day none of the parties involved would disclose what precisely Malfoy had seen. 

Malfoy bristled. “You laugh, Potter, but you wouldn’t if you’d seen what I saw. I had no idea Granger was so...flexible.” 

Harry put up his hands, not wanting Malfoy to continue in his description. “I honestly don’t want to know.” 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Oh please. I bet you’re a right kinky sod in the sack. The Saviour of the Wizarding World: sexual deviant. _The Prophet_ would eat it up!” 

Harry was grateful that the darkness of the night concealed his blush. “Fuck off, Malfoy,” he mumbled, covering his discomfort by taking another large gulp of wine. Even if he did have kinks, he’d never really had the chance to explore them with anyone. The whole, ‘being hunted down by a psychopath wizard bent on world domination’ thing had taken up most of his time and energy for the past seven years. This past summer he had taken advantage of being young and free and not dogged by any foreboding prophecies, and had gone clubbing in London a handful of times with Ron and Hermione. He’d enjoyed a few one-night stands with both men and women, but hadn’t met anyone that he wanted to see for more than a quick orgasm or two. It wasn’t exactly a conducive environment to explore one’s sexual proclivities. 

“I’m not one to kink shame, Potter. Quite the opposite! I’m open to all _sorts_ of new experiences.” Malfoy waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Harry.

Harry just stared. Was Malfoy actually suggesting that they…?

Suddenly Malfoy began to laugh. “Salazar, Potter. Untwist your knickers! I’m just having some fun.” Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle and took another drink. 

“Speaking of knickers,” Malfoy continued, “You should see me in a pair of stockings and a garter belt. I’ve got the best legs in Slytherin.” 

Harry felt all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock. The idea of Malfoy in women’s lingerie… _Merlin_ , he thought, _Guess I do have some kinks_. 

Malfoy started to laugh again, and pushed at Harry’s arm playfully. “Ugh, you’re almost too easy to fuck with! Takes all the fun out of it.” He cocked his head and studied Harry. “You know, you have the most expressive face. You don’t even try to hide your emotions, do you? You’d never have lasted a day in Slytherin.” 

“Hey! I was almost sorted into Slytherin!” Harry jumped to defend himself against Malfoy’s accusations. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Sure, Potter. And I was almost a Hufflepuff.” He got to his feet, wiping the earth from his trousers. “I’m for bed. You’d better not be too hungover tomorrow and vomit in our trench. You’d probably have to excavate it as a ‘modern intrusion’.’” He gave Harry a nod and turned to walk back to the cabins that served as their housing for the duration of the dig. 

“Hey. Hey! Harry!” Hermione was poking him in the thigh. 

“Huh? Yeah?” 

“I think you should put us all out of our misery and just fuck Malfoy already. K?” She slurred her speech a bit, but was smiling serenely at Harry. “Maybe your big dick would finally make him shut up and give us all some peace.” She laughed at her own joke and Harry heard Ron groan. 

“Hermione, would you please stop referencing the size of Harry’s dick all the time?” Ron pleaded with his girlfriend, leaning over Pansy to take her hand. “It’s enough to give a bloke a complex!” 

“Oh Ronald, you know you have nothing to be ashamed of in that department.” Hermione beamed back at her boyfriend, falling forward as she tried to pat his hand. 

Harry put his head in his hands, completely mortified. Sharing a tent with Hermione last year had resulted in a few awkward naked moments - inevitable, really, given the size of the tent and the amount of time they’d spent in it. 

“Oooh, Potter. What exciting new information! How big is it? Can I see?” Pansy looked like Christmas had come early. 

Harry got up, flicking off his friends and turning to go to back to his cabin and away from these horrible, horrible people. 

“Oh, you’re no fun!” complained Pansy. “I can promise that Draco would be absolutely delighted to see your massive cock. He’s the biggest size queen in the greater London area! And I think we all know he’d be perfectly happy to have you -” Pansy was cut off by Blaise’s hand coming to cover her mouth. 

“On your way, Potter. Never mind this cow.” 

Harry almost stopped to further question Pansy, but he resolutely refused to make a bigger fool of himself than he had already done. Plus, he was still uncomfortably hard from Draco’s description of himself in lingerie… 

oOoOoOoOoOo

The next afternoon, Harry and Malfoy sat in the shade near the cabins washing the pottery they had unearthed that day. Harry had to admit that when he heard he’d be going on an archaeological excavation he’d assumed it’d be somehow….sexier? He imagined that he’d be digging up all manner of treasures, maybe even battling complicated curses that ancient wizards had placed on their tombs. After Ron went to Egypt before second year and told him all about the complex muggle-repelling hexes and Dark Objects that were now housed in museums, he’d gotten his hopes up. Instead, it seemed like archaeology was a lot more about sorting through fragments of broken clay vessels while keeping meticulous notes and a lot less about battling unspeakable ancient evils. 

“You know what the worst part of having the Dark Lord staying at the manor was?” Malfoy asked suddenly.

“Erm, the constant threat of death? The forced torture? The murder?” Harry responded, not looking up from the large handle sherd he was scrubbing free of dirt with a toothbrush.

“Well, yes, all that,” Malfoy waved a had, flinging muddy water pellets at Harry. “But there was also the completely surreal experience of having the Dark Lord actually _living_ in the manor. Do you know how disgusting it was to clean up after his fucking snake? And you should see what he did to the master bedroom. There are still stains that we’ve never been able to get fully out of the medieval tapestries. The house elves won’t even speak about the en suite bathroom. We’ve actually just closed all of those rooms permanently.” 

Harry was silent for a few minutes, thinking about this. “Did you ever see Voldemort exiting his rooms with loo paper stuck to his shoe? Come to think of it, did he wear shoes? Or pajamas? I imagine him wearing some sort of old-timey nightgown and sleeping cap. You know, like in that portrait of Archduke Flanbert the Fatigued near the Arithmancy classroom.” 

The two boys looked at each other then, and broke down in laughter. Tears were streaming from Malfoy’s eyes and Harry was bent double, clutching his stomach. He hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. When they’d recovered sufficiently, they grinned at each other and continued to wash the pile of ceramics in front of them. 

“I don’t know about you, Potter, but I certainly expected more out of this experience than taking notes on soil composition. Orion Malfoy’s journals are full of daring adventures. Did you know that the wizards in Pompeii actually caused Mount Vesuvius to erupt? They were attempting to enact an experimental ritual involving blood and fire that would allow them to increase their sexual prowess, and, according to the memoirs of Pliny the Middle Child, it had simply ‘got completely out of hand.’” 

Harry snorted, nodding his agreement. “I know, right? I imagined that we’d be untangling ancient spells placed on the graves of wizards and witches like Merlin and Morgana, and finding all sorts of cursed Druidic artifacts. Not washing bloody pottery all day.” 

“I certainly know what profession I won’t be going into.” Malfoy looked thoughtful. “What are your plans for the future? Auror Academy, marriage to the Weaslette, three red-headed children named after dead people?” 

Harry sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s next. Ever since I was eleven, I’d had a purpose, yeah? Defeating Voldemort and fighting evil. Now I feel like I’m just sort of drifting, to be honest.” He wasn’t sure why he was being so open with Malfoy, but it felt good to be able to tell this to someone who wouldn’t try to psychoanalyze him or take it upon themselves to “fix” him. He loved Ron and Hermione with all his heart, but they were never able to just listen to him. “I don’t think I want to be an Auror. I’d be perfectly happy to never cast another curse at someone for the rest of my life. But if not an Auror, then what? I’ve only ever been good at throwing myself headlong into danger. That, and not dying. Well, sort of not dying.”

Malfoy made an inelegant noise to express his disbelief. “You’re the bloody Chosen One. People will be falling all over themselves to give you a job in any field you set your sights on. I bet you could even become Minister for Magic next year without mounting a campaign if you so desired. I, on the other hand, am a former Death Eater from a disgraced family. Do you know how many Potions Mastery programs I’ve applied to? Six. And six rejections, Potter. I’m destined to marry whatever Pureblood witch my parents are able to negotiate for me, produce an heir - which includes heterosexual copulation, perish the thought - and then quietly recede into the pages of the next edition of _Hogwarts, A History_ as the idiot who let Death Eaters into the school. I’ll probably pickle my liver with firewhiskey before the age of fifty out of sheer boredom.” 

Harry, who had spent the better part of the school year moping about, feeling listless and thinking that he had nothing to look forward to after Hogwarts, felt somewhat ashamed that he’d never considered the fact that other people might be in the same boat. Ron had been talking about the Auror Academy nonstop since Head Auror Robards cornered him and Harry after their Order of Merlin ceremony last June, and Hermione had been accepted to three different Healer Training Programs. Their futures were clearly mapped out, while Harry had been feeling progressively more isolated with every passing day. 

“I’m sure something will work out, Malfoy. Have you tried looking in Canada or the States? The War barely registered over there. And they have some great wizarding universities - Hermione looked into them,” Harry offered. 

Malfoy looked up from where he was viciously scrubbing some particularly resistant mud from a large ceramic fragment. “I… well, I suppose I could look into it…” Malfoy trailed off, looking both pensive and yet somewhat annoyed. “Of course you’d have some sort of idea. Bloody Saviour.” The left side of his mouth quirked up in a small smile, and he pointed his toothbrush at Harry. “You never answered my question about you and Girl Weasley. I thought you’d have struck up again with her by now.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and grimaced. “Erm, well, Ginny’s actually dating Luna Lovegood now - we decided we’re much better off as friends. Without the threat of imminent death hanging over our heads, we realised that we’re not all that well suited to be in a romantic relationship. Plus, did you notice she looks quite a bit like my mum? When Hermione pointed it out I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’m surprised you didn’t know about Gin and Luna, though, given your love of salacious gossip.” 

Draco looked offended. “Moi? A gossip? Bite your tongue, Potter. Although I can’t wait to see what Pansy gets up to with two thirds of the Golden Trio.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, but allowed himself a small chuckle. “Will you still have to have an arranged marriage, even if you do get your Potions Mastery?” 

“I really don’t know. My family was in talks with the Greengrasses before the war, but now… it remains to be seen. I have half a mind to fuck off to the Continent and take a lover in every major capital just to prove to my father that I won’t be conforming to his every whim anymore. But, I’m the last Malfoy and it would break my mother’s heart if I failed to provide her with a grandchild.” 

They lapsed into silence. Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to Malfoy’s last statement - he had no idea what it was like to live the weight of such heavy family obligations. But if the war had taught him anything, it was that life was precious and altogether too short, and people should take every chance at happiness that was presented to them. When he told Malfoy as much, Malfoy snorted and told him he sounded like one of those wizarding self-help books that take up an entire section at Flourish and Blotts. Harry had responded by flicking muddy water at Malfoy’s still pristine button-down shirt, and a small water fight ensued. When Dr Song came upon the two of them covered in brown water but laughing, she took their bucket of cleaned pottery with a wink and an approving smile. 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

That night, the Eighth Years were yet again gathered around the fire. Padma had suggested that they play a drinking game, and an hour later they were all properly sloshed and armed with much more information about each other from playing several rounds of “never have I ever,” a muggle game that Blaise had learned from his American cousins. 

“Never have I ever...gotten a handjob from an anonymous Scottish bloke at that one pub in Chelsea!” It was Ron’s turn, and the game had gone from vague proclamations to specific, personal attacks. 

Harry took a big gulp of his drink and heard Draco splutter, seeming to have choked on his wine. Harry glared at Ron and gave him the finger while weathering the catcalls and whistles of his cohort. He supposed he deserved that after his previous turn had called out Ron and Hermione for having sex in the bathroom of the Burrow last Christmas. 

“It’s your turn, Pansy!” Millicent yelled over the din. 

Pansy narrowed her eyes and said, “Never have I ever had impure thoughts about Harry James Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World. Golden Boy. The Chosen One.” 

Harry turned bright red and opened his mouth to protest that this was ridiculous, but to his great surprise Padma, Blaise, Lavender, and _Malfoy_ all took large gulps of wine. Harry looked over at Ron, his mouth hanging open.

“I love you Harry, but I promise you I’ve never had any thoughts about you or your ‘giant dick.’” Ron called over, laughing and using scare quotes. 

“Can this game be over, please?” Harry asked the crowd at large. He was mortified by the attention. 

...well, maybe not so much ‘mortified’ as ‘intrigued and turned on’ to know that Malfoy had had sexual thoughts about him...

Much to his relief, the game seemed to dissolve as people began having conversations amongst themselves. Harry sneaked a glance to his left where Draco was sitting, and saw that he was gazing into the fire, his blonde hair hanging over his cheek and shining in the light. 

Just then, Neville came and plopped down on Harry’s other side. He drew him into a conversation about the pros and cons of asking his girlfriend Hannah to move in with him in the fall. It was for the best, Harry reasoned, as he had no idea what he would say to Malfoy anyway. “Hey Malfoy, I know we’ve set aside our differences and have managed to have some civil conversations, and you’ve just admitted to having some sort of sexual desire for me, and I’ve recently started to think that I fancy you quite a bit, so I think we should have a shag and see how that goes?” He reasoned that it wasn’t the worst way to proposition someone, but it probably wasn’t the best. “Want to go somewhere more private?” had worked for him in the past, but that line was usually shouted into someone’s ear while they were dancing at a club.

A few minutes later, Padma and Blaise decided that they should begin another game that involved a deck of cards, so Harry got up to go to his cabin, where he was sure Ron had a pack somewhere. 

He opened the door to his and Ron’s room and was rendered speechless at the sight before him. Ron was standing behind Pansy, sucking on her neck with one hand up her shirt, the other tangled in Hermione’s hair. Pansy had Hermione backed up against the wall, her hand in Hermione’s knickers and a wicked smile on her face. 

“Oh, hello Potter!” Pansy had whipped her head around when Harry stepped fully into the room. Hermione yelped as Ron tried to detach himself from the two women but got his hand stuck in Hermione’s hair. Pansy smiled calmly at Harry, leaving her hand where it was. 

“Oi! Mate! Ever heard of KNOCKING?!” Ron’s face was as red as Harry had ever seen it.

“I...erm...I...fuck…” Harry tried to close his eyes and back out of the room, but banged his hip on the open door. “OW fuck! I’m sorry I was just looking for a deck of cards and I’ll just go should I sleep somewhere else tonight? Don’t answer that I’ll just sleep somewhere else tonight Merlin’s saggy ballsack where the fuck is the door?” Harry was yelling incoherently, still trying to find the doorknob without opening his eyes. 

When he returned to the fire empty-handed and silent, Malfoy took one look at him and burst into laughter. “Oh gods, Potter, did you just walk into your cabin without knocking? Did you seriously not notice all three of them leave fifteen minutes ago? That’s priceless!” 

Harry refused to look at Malfoy. “I...I didn’t notice…I just wanted to find a pack of cards...” 

Malfoy continued to laugh. “You can sleep in Pansy’s bed tonight, you hapless oaf. She’s sharing with me, but I’m sure she won’t mind.” Malfoy finally stopped laughing and Harry looked over at him. 

“Erm, thanks, Malfoy.”

“What, pray tell, did you actually see in there?” 

“Nope.” Harry shook his head. 

“Ugh, you’re no fun. I’m going to sleep. We’re in cabin 4. Be quiet when you come in, I’m a light sleeper.” Malfoy yawned and made to get up.

“I’ll just come with you now, if that’s OK.” Harry stood up with him, draining the last of his wine. Malfoy nodded and began walking away from the fire. 

When they reached their destination, Malfoy waved his wand and the door opened to reveal what Harry could only assume had once been a cabin that looked exactly like his and Ron’s. “Do some redecorating, Malfoy?” Harry asked, looking at the lush green carpet, two full-sized beds with luxurious looking duvets, and mahogany furniture. 

“Obviously. I can’t be expected to spend two weeks roughing it out here in the wilderness without at least having goosedown to comfort me at night.” 

Harry chuckled and began to undress. His left foot got caught in his denims and he struggled to stay upright, crashing into the bedframe. “Ow! Bugger!” He cursed, righting himself. He looked up to see Malfoy struggling not to laugh at him as he pulled up his own flannel pajama bottoms. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m an ‘uncoordinated git,’ get it out now.” He gestured for Malfoy to continue laughing. 

“You’re utterly hopeless, Potter. But it works for you, in a sort of, ‘devil may care’ kind of way. It’s actually somewhat adorable.” Malfoy looked slightly surprised at himself and muttered something about needing to perform a sobering charm.

“Aww, you think I’m adorable?” Harry teased, stripping off his shirt.

Malfoy turned to face Harry fully, and whatever snide remark he was surely about to make never made it out of his mouth. Malfoy’s eyes raked up and down Harry’s body, and he seemed utterly at a loss. 

“Erm, Malfoy? You OK?” Harry asked, wrinkling his brow in concern. “Are you going to be sick? I can grab the bin if you need…”

Malfoy put his hand up for Harry to stop talking and shut his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Just going to get into bed. Goodnight, Potter.” He flicked off the lights, leaving only the light of the moon in the cabin.

“Are you sure you want to go to sleep already?” Harry asked. “Because I’m not all that tired, and I have this problem that I thought you could help me sort out.” He knew that his bravery had nothing to do with being a Gryffindor and everything to do with the wine he had been drinking for the past three hours, but seeing Malfoy in his pajamas, accidentally calling him ‘adorable’ and admitting to having had at least one impure thought about Harry made him unsure he could go another minute without kissing the berk. 

Malfoy looked thoroughly confused. “What problem do you have that you need my help with?” 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to kiss you for at least the past two days, if not the past two years,” _might as well be honest_ , Harry thought, “and I was hoping that you could help me solve that mystery.” He shrugged his shoulders, waiting anxiously for Malfoy to respond. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Malfoy suddenly looked rather angry. “You’ve wanted to kiss me for the past two years, and you’re only now doing something about it? You fucking coward! You took down the Dark Lord and you couldn’t admit to wanting to snog me? We could’ve been shagging this entire year!” Malfoy closed the gap between the two of them and unceremoniously pressed his lips to Harry’s. 

Harry immediately kissed Malfoy back, bringing his hands up to cradle Malfoy’s head in his hands. He opened his mouth and sighed into the embrace, feeling Draco’s soft arms wrap around his waist. _This is perfection_ , Harry thought, the way that we fit together. They kissed slowly, and Harry took his time exploring Malfoy’s mouth with his tongue, finally sucking Malfoy’s bottom lip lightly between his teeth before pulling back a bit. 

“I really want to continue this, but we’re both sorta drunk and if we’re going to do anything more than kiss then we should do a sobering charm. Or we don’t have to do more than kiss! Or wait until tomorrow. Whatever you want.” Harry stroked Malfoy’s cheekbones with his thumbs, waiting to hear Malfoy’s decision. 

“Sobering charm. _Now_ , Potter. Chop chop!” Malfoy turned to grab his wand and pointed it at Harry, waiting for his approval to cast the charm. 

Harry smiled and took a deep breath. He knew from experience that this charm was particularly unpleasant, though blessedly quick. He backed up a few paces and steadied himself. “Ready,” he said. Malfoy flicked his wand and said the incantation, and Harry felt fire racing through his veins as the spell burned up the alcohol still in his system. After a few moments he shook his head as if trying to clear it, and looked at Malfoy. “You ready?” Malfoy braced himself against the side of the bed and nodded. As he didn’t know quite where his wand was, Harry waved his hand at Malfoy, focusing his thoughts on the incantation. Malfoy went rigid for a few seconds and then relaxed, opening his eyes to glare at Harry. 

“Do you, erm, still want to do this? Because I do.” Harry asked sheepishly, hoping that Malfoy’s sober mind still wanted what his drunk body clearly did. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You just cast wordlessly and wandlessly, you complete wanker. Do you have any inkling how hot that is?” Malfoy strode back over to Harry and grabbed his biceps, bringing their mouths together again. Harry groaned and guided his hands to Malfoy’s hips, bringing them flush together. Malfoy was a few centimeters taller than Harry, but the difference was negligible, especially when they were pressed together head to toe. Malfoy broke the kiss to focus his attention on Harry’s neck, alternating between sucking and licking the tan skin. Harry took the opportunity to run his hands through Malfoy’s hair again, letting his nails scrape lightly against his scalp. Malfoy moaned, pressing his groin into Harry’s again.

“What do you want, Draco?” The name fell from his lips before he could think about it. Harry gasped as he felt goosebumps erupt on his neck and arms from Malfoy’s ministrations.

Malfoy looked up, his lips red and his hair mussed. “First, I want you to keep calling me Draco. Second, I want you to fuck me. Can we do that?” 

“Oh, erm, I’ve never...done that before. With a bloke,” Harry replied, embarrassed at his lack of experience. “I mean, I’ve done other stuff - loads of other stuff! - just not that.” Draco - if it turned him on to use his first name, then he would now be Draco to Harry - reached up to tweak one of Harry’s nipples, and Harry responded by moaning and grinding his hips into Draco’s again. He could feel the hard length of Draco’s erection against his own through the thin layer of pajama pants, and the friction was intoxicating. “But, I mean, we could try it! We _should_ try it. Yes. Yes with the fucking.” 

Draco pulled his head back and regarded Harry, smiling. “I think there’s something wrong with me that I find your ridiculous speech patterns endearing.” Draco squeezed Harry’s arse. “Get on the bed, on your back, Potter,” he demanded, his voice little more than a growl. Harry acquiesced immediately, desire pulsing through him. 

Draco lowered his flannel pants and his hard cock sprang up, jutting straight out from his body. Harry thought that he had never seen anything quite so beautiful in his life. The moonlight reflected off of Draco’s pale skin, making him look like some sort of ethereal being. He had only a light dusting of hair on his arms and legs, and his chest was almost completely bare save for a trail of fine hair that led to a thatch of strawberry blond curls above his dick. Draco’s cock wasn’t as long or thick as Harry’s, but it made Harry’s mouth water, particularly when he took himself in his fist and gave himself a few slow pumps. “Oh, Harry,” Draco breathed, closing his eyes briefly when he flicked his thumb over the slit of his cock, “I’m going to _ruin_ you for other men. I’m going to ride that big cock of yours until you forget your own name.” Harry’s stomach flipped. _Apparently, another kink: dirty talk_. He made a mental note. 

Draco climbed onto the bed and over Harry’s legs so that he straddled him. Draco leaned over Harry and licked a strip from his nipple up to his neck, and began kissing him again. Harry was more than happy to let Draco take the lead, as it was clear that he had specific plans in mind. Harry brought his hands up to caress Draco’s arse, kneading the soft flesh as they continued to rock against each other. 

Draco hooked his thumbs in Harry’s pants and pulled them down, freeing Harry’s dick from the confines of his briefs. Draco groaned as he looked down at Harry’s cock, which was laying hard against his hip. “Are you fucking kidding me? Of _course_ The Chosen One has a massive cock. Merlin and Morgana both, Potter. You’re lucky I like you, or I would punish you for denying me access to this monster for maybe ‘the past two years.’” He used scare quotes to parrot Harry’s words back at him, and Harry giggled. “I swear Draco, I didn’t deliberately keep my dick from you. We were on opposite sides of a war, and then I didn’t think you were interested! There were extenuating circumstances! But now, you have full access to my dick. Full. Access.” 

“To make it up to me, I want you to accio the lube over here. Wordlessly. Wandlessly.” Draco was now sitting up on Harry’s hips, smirking with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Harry held his hand out and a few moments later a bottle smacked into his palm. He smiled and held it out to Draco, but he shook his head at Harry. “That’s for you.” He may not have ever fucked a man before, but Harry knew the spells they needed before penetrative sex. He waved his hand and cast safety and gentle cleaning charms. Draco yelped a bit. “Warn me before you go cleaning out my arsehole! Salazar, Potter. Manners!” Draco smacked Harry’s arm lightly before he leaned down and took Harry’s left nipple into his mouth, simultaneously using his other hand to gently twist his right nipple between his fingers, eliciting a gasp from Harry. He moved sinuously down Harry’s chest and stomach, licking and sucking until he reached the hard length of Harry’s cock. Draco grabbed the base with his hand and licked a hot strip from fist to tip. Harry hissed in pleasure, his hips jerking up. 

“Harry.” Draco let go of his dick. Harry lifted his head, making eye contact with Draco. Draco continued, “I want you to watch this. I want you to watch while I suck your cock. Sit up a bit.” Harry groaned and scooted up the duvet so that his back was against the headboard. Draco crawled up and settled between Harry’s open legs. 

“Don’t you dare come.” Draco raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to acknowledge his command. Harry nodded, letting the bottle of lube roll away as he fisted his hands in the duvet, more than half sure that Draco Malfoy would kill him via sex. _Not a bad way to go, all things considered_ , Harry thought. Draco reached down and brought Harry’s hands to his head; Harry quickly wound his fingers through the silky locks. 

Draco turned his attention back to Harry’s dick and began to suck at the head, pushing his foreskin up and down with his lips and tongue. He took as much of Harry into his mouth as he could, and Harry felt Draco’s throat relax and he attempted to take more and more. He’d gotten a few blowjobs in his life, but when Draco looked up at Harry, his lips stretched around Harry’s cock, cheeks flushed with exertion, Harry thought desperately that this was the most erotic, most pleasurable thing he’d ever experienced in his life. 

“Draco, please...I’m not going to last,” Harry ground out, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. 

Draco lifted his head off of Harry, and bit his lip, giving himself a few tugs before collapsing next to Harry. “I want you to prepare me, Harry. You need to take your time, giving me at least three fingers and making sure I’m nice and open before you fuck me. OK?” 

“Yeah, OK,” Harry responded breathlessly, eager to return some of the pleasure that Draco had bestowed upon him. He flipped over and sat between Draco’s open legs. Harry opened the lube and squirted some onto his fingers before sliding down and hoisting Draco’s legs up so that his calves rested on his shoulders, giving him better access to Draco’s arse. He reached down and breached Malfoy with the tip of his middle finger, waiting for Malfoy to adjust to the feeling before giving him the rest of his finger. With his other hand he fisted Draco’s cock and stroked him slowly, timing his tugs to coincide with his finger penetrating Draco’s arse. He may be new to this, but he knew that Draco would need a lot of prep to take his dick. Plus, he was in no hurry: having Draco spread out beneath him, letting out breathy little moans as Harry sought out his prostate was driving Harry mad with want. After a few minutes, he added a second finger and finally a third, using a copious amount of lube. 

Draco swatted Harry’s hand out of the way. “That’s enough, Harry. I’m ready.” Draco reached behind him and put a pillow under his hips. Harry poured more lube into his palm and coated his dick thoroughly. “Are you sure you’re ready, Draco? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Draco looked up at Harry, his grey eyes shining in the moonlight. “I’m sure. Just go slowly.” Harry nodded and shuffled his knees up so that his cock was aligned with Draco’s hole, now shiny with lube. He pushed the tip in, just past the tight ring of muscle and into the warm depth of Draco. They both groaned, and Harry had to drop Draco’s legs so that he could lean forward and kiss him. Draco grabbed both of his legs behind the knees, opening himself further for Harry.

His arms were shaking, but Harry controlled his movements so that he didn’t shove into Draco all at once. Little by little he pushed in, his dick enveloped slowly by the tight heat. Finally, he was fully seated in Draco, the curls of his dark pubic hair resting against Draco’s entrance. Malfoy’s erection had wilted, and so he grasped Draco’s shaft and gently pulled, glad that his hands were still covered in lube. He leaned down to press kisses to Draco’s chest and neck, biting at his collarbone and sucking on his earlobe, waiting for Draco to adjust to the sensation of being filled. 

“OK, Harry. I’m ready. Fuck me.” Draco met Harry’s gaze and smiled, fully and genuinely. “I mean it! Let’s get on with the fucking.” Draco laughed and squeezed Harry’s arse. With a loud moan, Harry pulled out halfway and slammed back in, causing Draco’s eyes to roll up and his head to fall back against the pillows. “Yes, like that, Potter. Yes!” Harry tried to establish a steady rhythm, but Draco was moaning and writhing beneath him and every so often his muscles would shift and clench, causing Harry’s hips to stutter. He was so close already, and it had barely been more than a minute or two of thrusting into Draco. He began to recite the starting lineup of the Chudley Cannons, desperately trying to stave off his orgasm. 

Suddenly Draco dropped his legs and growled at Harry to stop. Harry immediately froze, scared that he had hurt him. 

“Oh wipe that look off your face, Harry! You look like I dumped your ice cream into the bin. I just want to ride your cock. Pull out for a second so I can get on top.” 

Harry obeyed Draco’s directions, and a few moments later Draco was lowering himself back onto Harry’s dick, his head thrown back in pleasure. “Oh Circe, Harry! Your cock is magnificent.” 

When he was fully seated he looked down at Harry and smiled wickedly. “Scared, Potter?” 

“You wish, Malfoy.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hips and thrust up, causing Draco to curse, “Oh, fuck!” 

Draco began to lift himself up and down on Harry’s cock while he pulled furiously at his own erection with his right hand. “Yeah, you like this Harry? Do you like it when I ride your giant cock?” Malfoy spoke to Harry while he looked directly into his eyes. “I want you to fill me up with your come, Potter.” He punctuated this statement by clenching the muscles in arse, causing Harry’s orgasm to rip through him unexpectedly. “Bloody hell!” Harry yelled, squeezing Draco’s hips with his fingers while his own jerked up and down slightly, riding out his orgasm. 

Draco moaned above him. “Yes! Yes! You feel so good, Harry. So good!” Harry continued to hold on to Draco's hips, thrusting up with his softening cock on every down movement. All of a sudden Draco stopped moving, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezed shut as his own orgasm overcame him. Hot ropes of come sprayed over Harry’s chest, and Draco collapsed over him, seemingly unaware of the mess between them. 

They were both breathing hard, and Harry moved his hands up to trace patterns lightly on Draco’s back with his nails. 

“What’s the name of that muggle god, Harry? The one that they always call out when they’re upset or having sex?” 

“Erm, Jesus? Jesus Christ?”

Draco nodded against Harry’s chest, his hair tickling his neck under his chin. “Jesus bloody Christ, Potter. That was fucking amazing.” 

Harry laughed. “Yes. Yes it was.” 

Draco moved his hips so that Harry slipped out of him and he sat up, wrinkling his nose at the mess between them. “Potter, be a dear and clean this up, hmm?” 

“This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it? You ordering me to use my wandless magic to make your life easier?” Harry waved his hand, casting a _scourgify_ over the two of them.

“Oh, Harry. It’s cute that you even have to ask.” Draco climbed off the bed and pulled his pants on. “Are you coming?” Draco looked behind him, quirking his eyebrow. 

“What do you mean? Where are you going?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“We just fucked on Pansy’s bed. I’m not sleeping in that mess. Now come over here and get to bed. I won’t allow you to keep that beautiful cock of yours more than a few centimeters away from me at all times. Also, I’m the little spoon, so adjust your cuddles accordingly.” 

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Potter, are you serious right now? We’re supposed to be closing the trench, not opening a new deposit!” Malfoy was stood at the edge of the scarp, shouting down at Harry. It was the last day of excavation, and Harry couldn’t be happier that they were returning to Hogwarts that evening. He was completely done with Draco’s back-seat excavating. 

“I _am_ closing this layer, Draco! Use your bloody eyes! I’m cleaning the balk for final photographs!” 

“You know, if you continue to use that tone with me then you’ll be sleeping alone tonight!” 

Harry stood up to look Draco in the eye. They hadn’t spent a night apart in the week and a half since they’d began shagging, and he wasn’t planning on changing that when they returned to their dorms. In fact, he didn’t plan on changing that when they were done at Hogwarts. If he had his way, he’d never spend another night without Draco, full stop. 

Draco raised his arms in a dramatically embellished yawn, letting the hem of his shirt ride up. Harry choked. There, between the creamy white skin of Draco’s torso and the top of his khakis, was a strip of black lace. Draco was wearing knickers. Lacy. Black. Knickers. 

Harry climbed out of the trench and stalked over to Draco, who was grinning smugly. He didn’t stop once he reached him; instead he bent and put his arms around Draco’s hips, heaving him up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

“Potter! You absolute brute! Put me down this instant!” Draco screeched, banging his fists against Harry’s back. 

“Nope! I’ve put up with your archaeological bullying for two sodding weeks, Draco. I’m done. You’re mine, and I’m going to take you back to your cabin, ravish you until you’re incoherent, and then we’re going to finish drawing the top plan of our trench.”

“Oh.” Draco stopped pounding on Harry’s back, considering this. “Well, fine. If you must, have your dastardly way with me.” 

Harry smacked Draco’s pert arse. “That’s what I like to hear out of a trenchmate.” 

“I expect your full report before we arrive back at school, gentleman!” Dr Song called out to them from where she was squatting in front of Ron and Tony’s trench. She raised her sunglasses and winked at them before turning back to her work. 

“Of course, Dr Song!” Harry turned and waved at her before continuing to Draco’s cabin. 

If Harry wanted to provoke Draco’s derision, he might be tempted to say something along the lines of, “this project may not have yielded much in terms of exciting archaeological finds, but I’m certainly glad that I found my way to you.” 

And because Harry was a glutton for punishment - at least where Draco was concerned - he told him anyway. And as expected Draco poked fun at Harry’s corny sentiments. 

But sometime later, as Draco lay gasping beneath Harry, he whispered, “I’m glad you found your way to me, too.” 

 

oOoOFin!OoOo


End file.
